


Whale Willies and Park Pigeons

by breakfastatmilliways



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, also whale dildos, bit on the nsfw side, mostly for a lot of talk about sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:36:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastatmilliways/pseuds/breakfastatmilliways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the AU Prompt; ‘I’m on the verge of tears because of a rude customer and you step in and stand up for me’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whale Willies and Park Pigeons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DraniKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraniKitty/gifts).



> Gifting this to the lovely DraniKitten both for providing the prompt and more or less providing the name. :)
> 
> This may be one of the more ridiculous things I've written in recent memory.
> 
> Also, thank you to brutallyamish for the suggestion of putting it in a sex shop. Because that was glorious.

It was days like today that Trott desperately wished he had gone with the job as a barista rather than the one he was currently working. Sure, Sweet Sally’s Playland did pay better, and Trott was quite mature enough to take a job at an adult shop seriously (an incident or five of inconsolable hysterics at particularly jiggly dildos notwithstanding), but he couldn’t imagine the customers at the local coffee shop would be anywhere near as demanding as the ones he had encountered since the start of his latest shift.

It was meant to be a slow night. Tuesdays usually were. It seemed that most people didn’t get the sudden urge to purchase sex toys en masse until the weekend approached, for the most part. As such, he’d been scheduled to work by himself, and that meant both manning the register and helping the perplexing influx of randy customers to find what they needed. He was feeling a bit harried, to say the least, even though most of them were pleasant enough people.

Most of them being the operative phrase, there. The customer he was currently being faced with was anything but, and had to be one of the pickiest motherfuckers Trott had ever encountered. He had already insisted on sending Trott into the back to doublecheck for a particular brand of condoms- With a disposable cock ring. The disposable cockring was key, apparently.- twice, despite the growing queue of increasingly irate looking customers behind him, and was currently ripping Trott a new one over the fact that they didn’t have the brand in stock.

“They’re a fucking staple of any respectable shop! If you’ll just let me back there to have a look-”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you have to understand, we just don’t carry them. Not every shop is going to carry every brand. If you’d like, I’ll even do a search to find the nearest-”

“I’m not going off on a fucking treasure hunt looking for these! You have to have them, everywhere has them! I’ll bet you didn’t even look. You probably just went back there and had yourself a nap or something, you lazy piece of shit. Go back there and have a proper look or get me in touch with your bloody supervisor so I can tell him how mentally deficient his fucking cashier is!”

Trott’s patience was quickly wearing thin, to the point where he wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to be able to avoid breaking down in tears of frustration, punching the asshole right in the face, or both. Probably both, and while tears were occasionally understandable, having a physical altercation with a customer wasn’t likely to go over well with his boss when she got wind of it.

“Alright, first off, my supervisor is, in fact a woman. Second, she’s not in. Third, I promise you, I looked. We don’t have them. We have plenty of rubbers and plenty of cock rings. I’ll even give you a discount if you want to buy both, but I can’t change the fact that we simply do not have a fucking package deal.”

“You watch your fucking tongue! I’m a paying god damn customer, and you haven’t got the right to use that fucking tone with me, you fucking pissant.”

“Do you actually know what a pissant is or are you just trying to sound smarter than you are?” Trott wasn’t expecting this new voice to break into the conversation, and he turned his attention from his current problem to take in the owner of the voice, namely a tall as all hell ginger fellow who had moved forward from his spot further back in the line to stand next to the counter. “Because I’m a paying customer as well, and all you’re fucking achieving right now is making yourself a bigger pain in the ass than that fucking whale dick dildo over there.” He waved an arm at the item he was referring to, which, at well over a meter in length, was really more of a decorative piece than anything the shop had any intention of selling. This interruption seemed to only make the already irate customer even angrier, and he turned his glare from Trott to this newcomer. Trott figured it might be best to try to defuse this situation before it got any worse.

“Er, listen, I can handle this just fine, I’m sure we can work something out, no one is being a pain in anyone’s ass.” He murmured calmly, trying his best to stifle the immense frustration that he was still feeling. Mr. Ginger Beard turned to look at him.

“I beg to differ. This asshole’s a pain in every one of our asses. I can’t imagine he’s making your night any easier, is he?” When Trott didn’t argue against this, his would be savior turned back to the other customer and leaned in close to him, a downright dangerous glint in his eyes. “What do you say then, mate? Care for a taste of your own medicine? Because I’m not above taking that thing-” He paused to once again gesture at the model of the whale genitalia, “-and shoving it right the fuck up your ass. You might do well to get out of here before you wind up with what could well be some serious internal damage.”

To Trott’s utter surprise, this tactic seemed to have the intended effect. The color drained from the complaining customer’s face, and he muttered a few apologies directed at no-one in particular before making a beeline for the door. The bearded man turned to the flabbergasted audience of people still in the queue and gave something of a little bow, then flashed Trott a surprisingly charming grin before making his way back to the end of the line.

It took quite some time to get through the number of customers that had built up over the course of the argument, and it was several minutes before the madman who had been so willing to brandish a whale dildo as an unorthodox weapon made it to the counter. By the time he did, it was near closing, and the shop had mostly cleared out, aside from a few stragglers still perusing the shelves.

“You really didn’t have to do that, you know.” Trott commented in a dry tone, looking up at the considerably taller man across the counter from him. This earned him another grin, and he couldn’t help noticing that the man was really quite attractive when he smiled. Not really a trait he was particularly keen on noticing when the one with said trait had quite such interesting ideas for vigilante justice.

“Of course I didn’t, but my night wouldn’t have been half as fun if I hadn’t.” He responded, as he plopped his merchandise down on the counter. One of those twelve inch vibrating dildos that Trott couldn’t help but have the occasional laugh at. “It’s for my flatmate, just so we’re clear. I forgot his birthday.”

This was an excuse that Trott had heard time and time again, but something about the delivery this time had him keen to believe it for once. “I don’t suppose that was on his wishlist, was it?”

“Nah, but he’s a bit of a vibrating cock, ya see. Figured he could do with having a kindred spirit.” Trott couldn’t hold back a bit of a snort, and that snide grin on his customer’s face only widened. “I’ll wager that you’ve had a hell of a day.”

“My good sir, how on Earth could you tell?” Trott questioned dryly as he rang up and bagged the purchase, which was immediately payed for in cash.

“Just a sneaking suspicion I had. It’s Smith, by the way.” Smith, as he’d introduced himself, took the offered bag, then leaned in to squint at Trott’s nametag. “So, Trott, is it? You’ll be closing up soon, won’t you? What do you say you let me help turn this night around? I know how to show someone a fucking fantastic time.”

This was not exactly the first time that a customer had attempted to ask Trott out. It was, however, the first time he opted to accept such an invitation.

~~~

Smith’s idea of a good time wasn’t exactly what Trott had been anticipating, although he couldn’t say that he had any complaints about it either. Not long after locking up, he found himself seated with Smith on a bench at a nearby park, crumbling up chocolate laxatives to throw for the night owls of the local pigeon population.

“It’s a lot funnier in the daylight when there are more crowds about, I’ll admit, but at night you’ve got the bonus of them possibly shitting all over some couple trying to have a nice, innocent shag in the bushes.” Smith was saying, and the image alone was enough to make Trott crack up. The promise of turning his night around had not been an empty one, even if the method of entertainment might well ruin the nights of plenty of other unsuspecting people. He threw his last handful of chalky ‘sweets’ into the throng of birds, then leaned back to simply watch them fight over the goodies, chuckling slightly.

“You know, I had you pegged more for the sort that’d be doing the shagging in the bushes than the kind that gets birds to shit on people.” He commented, causing his companion to let out a barking laugh.

“Just because I’m the latter tonight, doesn’t mean I’m not also the former when the mood suits me. I could just shag you in the bushes, if you’d prefer.” Smith wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Trott rolled his eyes, getting to his feet.

“I’d consider the offer, but I’m afraid you’ve already made this entire park a firing zone. Rather not risk it, would you?”

“The danger’s half the fun of it! Would be just a bit of a mood killer, though.” Smith granted, getting to his feet as well, as he seemingly agreed that the bench they had been sitting on was behind enemy lines. “There’s a fairly decent pub around the corner. By ‘fairly decent’, I mean slightly less of a literal shithole than this park is going to be within the next ten minutes, but it sometimes has a good variety on tap and it doesn’t smell entirely of sick. Fancy a drink instead?”

“My choices are a complete dive or bird crap?” Trott asked, raising a brow and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “You know just how best to woo a lady, don’t you?”

“Bit of a new technique I’ve been working out. Find an attractive prospect, threaten their enemies with maiming via whale cock, then offer to shower them in pigeon shit. Assuming seagulls aren’t available.” Smith leaned in a bit closer to him, a crooked smirk on his face. “How’s it working? Are you feeling wooed?”

Trott wasn’t sure if it was their proximity to blame, or the fact that Smith’s face was once again plastered with that charming fucking grin. Regardless of the reason, he found himself taking hold of the front of Smith’s shirt in order to pull him down to a more reachable altitude before pressing their lips together. It wasn’t much more than a peck, and while the hand that reached around to press into the small of Trott’s back  might have indicated an urge to take it beyond that, it didn’t really get a chance as a sudden ruckus from the flock of pigeons caused them to pull apart. One of the pigeons must have received a larger dose of the laxatives, and another one’s head seemed to have become their little prank’s first victim.

“I think I’ll take that as a sign. Pub it is.” Trott mentioned casually, even as he started at a brisk walk away from the throng of birds. The taller man followed after him at an equally brisk pace, throwing an arm across his shoulders once he caught up.

They were just reaching the exit of the park when the sound of two voices screaming bloody murder sounded from vaguely the direction they had just left.

By the time they arrived at the pub, they still hadn’t quite managed to stop laughing. 


End file.
